Across This Ice
by May a Chance
Summary: All of fifteen years, Spencer Reid is very ready for the Olympics. Until his ice dance preparation is interrupted in a most disastrous way- the blunt hilt of a knife, a note written in blue. Figure skating/Olympics AU. Gen.


**I am under the same name on AO3 and on that version of Across This Ice, there are links to the varying programs performed.**

* * *

Four skates glided across a large expanse of ice, four legs moving in unison. Left foot, right foot, and then again as the two skaters made a lap around the ice. Their motions were as smooth as glass, movements in perfect sync. The taller of the pair dressed in dark slacks. The same black as his skates and into his dark pants was tucked a bright cerulean shirt. His long sleeves were rolled up to just past his elbows. With his right hand, he gripped his skating partner's left hand. Her white skates continued to move in sync with his. She dressed in an icy blue dress that went down to her knees in billowy lengths. It had a low neckline and no shoulders to speak of, though both looked more than comfortable on the ice. Golden hair was pulled back in a gentle bun.

At the far end of the ice rink, her skating sped so that she pushed in front of him ever so slightly. Her long arms extended out behind her like the wings of an angel. They continued past the corner. Then, at the start of the long wall, looked to each other and raised their outer arms in a presentation. They released the hand that they held in a slow motion. She skated in front of him as both lowered their arms in preparation for what was to come. Both circled outwards before coming to stand side by side near the centre of the ice. Both rested their heads on each other's backs.

Just moments before the music began, both of the young partnership skated back and apart from each other. They faced each other, and skated back together when the soft rumble of their music was heard. She spun away from him a few rotations before he made his own circle, beginning their synchronized program.

They both skated back, and then turned to face forwards with their arms out just slightly to help them hold their balance. From there the pair skated into a set of synchronized twizzles, moving in sync, for a total of seven rotations in perhaps two seconds. They skated onwards, turned backwards and then back to forwards and into their second set of twizzles.

It was here that the pair of ice dancers broke from the synchronization, with him skating backwards and her skating forwards to follow him. For a second, she rested against his chest, and then turned past him for yet another twizzle, this one slower than the previous two.

Together they skated into another pair of twizzles, and then together so that they once more held hands. She completed a twizzle beneath his arm and was hugged, gently, to his chest for a short moment. They skated and were facing each other half a second later. They moved not as two singular beings dancing together, awkward in motion, and rather as a synchronized unit.

Seconds passed and they started backwards down the long wall, one moment both on the ground and the next her upon his shoulders, twisting around his neck before bracing against his knees, hanging down to view the ice upside down before lifting back up.

Both spun before he set her back on the ice without as much as a sound.

It was all very soft though their music grew louder with the beat of their music, racking up points for both their artistry and technicality. Their unit was blatantly a near perfect one as she lifted onto his knee and completed another set of spins together.

Their dance was sweet and simple, moving cohesively across the hard surface and completely ignoring the audience watching them. To them, the audience was not there.

Some might have called their sport a glorified form of ballroom dancing, but any thinking eye could see the difference in the movements and the creativity. They moved in unison through another set of twizzles.

Legs swung gracefully forwards and then back, bent at the knee before once again gliding across the smooth ice.

They spun as they held hands, grinning towards each other the entire time.

 _Relax_ , his eyes said.

 _I am_ , replied hers.

Covering ice, they moved to the far end of the rink once again and she lifted into his arms, his leg going back so that they were now close to the ice. She sat on his knee for a second or two before both rose once again.

It was blatant how much the two skaters cared for each other, obvious in their eyes and their faces and in every motion they undertook. Together they gained speed, dancing across the ice.

And then again, another lift up onto his shoulders and they spun together, her in his arms before he let her down to glide across the ice.

It must have hurt, their next lift, for she stood upon his thigh arms raised and with the largest smile one could imagine in the conceivable realm. Just an instant later she was upside down, and another instant after that back on the ice with a smile on her face.

They came to a stop towards the centre of the ice, his head resting against her shoulder.

The instant the applause began, he dropped his head into the crook of her neck before enveloping her in a hug.

Once or twice, they presented to the crowd with their arms spread and gave a couple of twirls to the audience's delight. Then, hand in hand, they skated from the ice.

They were met by their coaches, who enveloped both in a gentle hug before guiding them to sit, awaiting the score for their performance. A total of over a hundred points, beyond good. Both looked exhausted.

They finished in first, a whole ten and a half points beyond their closest competitors.

Dinner that night was a quiet affair. At one end of the table sat Marina, slightly red bangs hanging over her forehead just the same as they always did. At the other end was Igor, stony faced as ever. Spencer sat across one long side of the table, Alaska to his right. Across from them were Libby and Paul, both glaring at Spencer and Alaska just slightly.

Libby shrugged her black hair back over her shoulder and took a bite of her spaghetti. Dark eyes scanned the table in front of her, looking for something to say and finding nothing.

Eventually, Marina cleared her throat. "That was some wonderful skating earlier, no?" She had a thick Russian accent that, after so long training with her, didn't affect her students in the slightest.

Alaska blew a stray strand of her golden hair out of her face. "Yeah, it was pretty great. I thought you guys were pretty good." She gave Paul a grin, and he grinned back a toothy smile.

"You too."

"Paul, Libby, be sure to watch how in unison you are when you're going through twizzles. There's always someone just a half second ahead of the other. We can work on that tomorrow," Igor said in his thick baritone voice, before taking another bite of his spaghetti. "Alaska, you were a bit tense out there."

"I told you that you needed to relax!" Spencer crowed at her.

Alaska blew at her hair again. "You most certainly did not."

"I did."

His skating partner considered for a moment. She conceded a moment later. "Okay now I remember that. Thank you for the reminder." She tipped her fork at him, then took another bite.

Rolling her eyes, Libby spoke up. "Do you guys really have to argue at the dinner table?" She asked in a distinctly Boston accent, the r's in her voice faded in comparison to another's r's. "I, for one, do not have the energy to argue."

Spencer shrugged, but quieted down and took another bite. Happily, he munched at the wonderful dish. Worry clouded his gaze. "Are you okay, Lib'?"

Again, she rolled her eyes. "I'm fine, Spencer. Totally fine." There was a not in her voice he didn't seem to quite believe, but gave up on the line of conversation.

Paul directed his voice towards Spencer. "Do you want to skate as a group tomorrow? A little more relaxed, simpler stuff?"

Alaska and Spencer exchanged a group, and then she shrugged. "Sure, why not? I was hoping to do a bit of work on a lift we're thinking of trying."

At one end of the table, to Spencer's left, Igor tipped his head. "Which one?"

"The one where Alaska braces herself on my shoulders and the back of my calf," Spencer replied. "The one that looks like it hurts."

Igor nodded. "Alright. We can do a little of that. But we will be taking it easy. All of you skated hard and well today."

Alaska nodded cheerfully, though her eyes were half drooping shut.

Marina sighed. "Off to bed, all of you, once you've cleared your dishes. It's getting late.

On the wall behind Marina was a large clock, which read seven forty-nine. None of the young skaters protested.

Whilst training with Igor and Marina, one did not attend school. It didn't particularly matter to Spencer, seeing as he had graduated the year before, but it did matter to the other youth under the Russian couples care.

* * *

The day after the Junior Championships, the two ice dance pairs received the afternoon off to do with as they pleased, and Spencer and Alaska elected to go to the movies. They went to _The Mortal Instruments_ at the small theatre in down town Canton as a treat for having placed first the day before. Throughout the movie, Alaska through little bits of popcorn at her partner. When (Josy? Was that her name?) had her door busted in by a giant (troll? monster? sociopath?) Spencer nearly burst out laughing, and they weren't even all that far in yet. He received quite the glare from the surrounding teens, most of whom looked delighted by what was happening. It was all just so clichéd it would have hurt not to laugh.

Alaska grinned and through another piece of popcorn at him.

Frankly, _The Mortal Instruments_ was a violent and downright irritating film.

They laughed as they exited the theatre, fully prepared for the soothing walk back to Igor and Marina's home.

Down town Canton, Michigan consisted of very little, and despite the label of 'down town' it was an overall quiet area. The air was warm that far into August, though Spencer could sense the bite of winter slowly approaching in the slight crisp scent that the air carried. He inhaled happily as they turned a corner down an alleyway, shoulders bumping.

Spencer grinned at his partner. "So that was a pretty horrid movie." He got a laugh of response.

"Darn right about that one, Spence'. I thought those fangirls were going to kill us."

"I wish we could go to movies a little more often. Igor and Marina are so intense."

"Spencer, we just one first at the Junior Championships. First."

He laughed in agreement. "Well, yeah. Obviously we won. I just want to make the most of life, too. Winning isn't everything." He paused. "My dad would disagree."

"We put so much time into our skating we don't have time for anything else." Alaska had a bright grin and a twinkle in her eyes as she gently shoved Spencer. "And besides, skating is the greatest thing in the world. Why would we want to give it up just to go to the movies?" She rolled her eyes. "Besides. You wouldn't be normal anyways. You'd be in college getting some degree in something or other."

Spencer nodded, brushing against Alaska's shoulder. "I guess I would be. I'll do degrees once you can do degrees."

They were perhaps halfway through the alley, then, when Spencer felt a shiver creep up his neck. The summer warmth had shifted, suddenly feeling much more like the freeze of winter. He tensed nervously, shifting closer to Alaska and taking her hand in his. She looked at him with eyes the same colour as the ocean and tipped her head to the side.

"What?" She asked curiously. "You're not looking to great there Spence'."

"Let's just get out of this alley."

Alaska shrugged, but quickened her pace to match Spencer's, their feet moving in perfect unison. "I'm sure it's nothing," she said when they were three quarters of the way through.

It sounded cliché to think, but to Spencer the shadows seemed to creep along the dumpsters lining the alley. He squeezed Alaska's hand and started moving more quickly. She slipped an arm around his waist.

"It's okay. You're just wound up from yesterday. Nothing's wrong, nothing's going to happen." Alaska pulled herself and Spencer to a stop, turning to face him and resting her hands on his shoulders. "It's okay," she told him. "I'm right here. I promise." There was a pause before she spoke again. "And even if something does happen, I'll find you. You don't ever get to leave me, okay?"

Spencer let out a shaky breath and nodded before diving into a hug. Alaska's arms wrapped around him as she looked over his shoulder, eyes sliding shut a moment later.

"Okay." They broke apart and Alaska smiled at him, pinching his cheek and ruffling his golden hair.

A starburst of pain splashed through his skull and Spencer found himself frowning at Alaska's terrified face. "'Laska?" He mumbled and his voice was slurred. "Wha…?"

When Spencer crumpled to the ground, Alaska was left staring past where he had stood.

The figure she was faced with was easily taller than Spencer and dressed entirely in black with a hoodie drawn over his face. In one hand, he held a knife and Alaska backed up, pressing against the building behind her.

"Scream," the man said, "And you will never see your partner again."

She didn't. Spencer could have given her the statistics for what women did when confronted with a knife, but Alaska was helpless to her instincts. They pulled at her like a wolf tore at its prey, catching her within their grasp until she was helpless to them.

A car pulled into the alley and Alaska was roughly shoved towards it as she stumbled over the uneven ground. In the front of the car was another dark clothed figure, whose gloved hands gripped the steering wheel ferociously in a deathlike grasp. With no doubt, Alaska knew that if those hands wrapped around her neck she would be a ragdoll in the mouth of a slobbering dog.

A shiver ripped through her skin, dread creeping over her like the inevitable call of death.

* * *

It was the pounding in his head that woke him, as though every part of his brain throbbed against his skull and left everything feeling cold and shattered and terrifying.

He released a long groan and turned his head to the left, to find himself in an empty alleyway. He frowned. No… They were going to the movies where was he? Spencer's frown deepened as he tried to think about this, headache pounding harder.

Clumsy fingers reached into the pocket and grabbed at his cellphone, not finding it there. He frowned once again. It _had_ been in his pocket when they'd left… right?

Spencer turned his thick-feeling head to the right, looking for Alaska. They alley remained empty. His frown thickened yet deeper. "Al-Alas-aska?" He groaned out. "Where…?" His words were not more than a soft murmur.

A growl emitted from his throat as Spencer tried to push himself upwards, failing once before eventually succeeding so that he sat, bracing himself against his hands. His golden-haired head lolled to one side before he shook it for half of a second. Standing was harder yet, like learning a new lift but worse. They stumbled beneath him, refusing to cooperate as Spencer wandered out of the alley. The street which he was on was Denton. No. Denton was away from the theatre not towards it. That wasn't right.

A passerby noticed him.

"Hey," the woman said as she steadied Spencer. "You okay?"

Spencer frowned. "Where's Alaska?"

She frowned back. "Come on kid, I think you need some water."

"No. No water. Ambulance."

She nodded slowly. "Okay, I can call an ambulance for you." She guided Spencer to sit on a bench. "What's your name, sweetie?"

"Spencer. Where's Alaska?"

"Kid, you're in Michigan not Alaska. Did you hit your head?"

"Not the state. Person." He paused for a long moment. "I think so?"

The woman sighed and pat his knee. "I'm going to call that ambulance for you, Spencer. You just stay here and relax, okay? Maybe Alaska went to grab help."

"She has a phone. Always. I had my phone. Not anymore."

The woman tapped a password into her phone and made the call. "Hello? Hi. I'm on Denton road and there's this kid with me, he says his names Spencer, he keeps asking for a person named Alaska and he's acting like he's got a concussion. Can you please send an ambulance? There's a nasty knock on his head." She nodded. "Okay. Thank you." She hung up. "Spencer, an ambulance is on its way. I need you to stay calm for me, okay?"

"No," Spencer frowned. "Need police. Someone took Alaska."

"Who's Alaska, Spencer? Is she a friend of yours?"

He nodded voraciously before she stilled him. "Alaska Knight. We skate together. We were going to the movies." Big hazel eyes frowned at the woman. "What time is it?"

"Umm, six-thirty."

"That's not right the movie started at three-thirty. I'm sure of it."

When the ambulance pulled in on Denton road, Spencer was continuing to frown at the woman. A paramedic hopped out and went to inspect Spencer, ushering the woman away. "Hey," he grinned at Spencer. "How are you feeling, kiddo? Got a headache there." He nodded. "Okay, that's fine. That's consistent with concussion symptoms. I'm going to test your eyes reactions now. Everything is going to be just fine." The paramedic did, shining a light in both of Spencer's eyes. "You're doing well, Spencer. We're gonna get you to the hospital so that we can call your parents. Does that sound good?" Spencer nodded. "Awesome. I'm gonna get you in the ambulance and we can get going. That might make your headache a little worse but that's okay we're going to drive nice and easy."

Spencer nodded as his head drooped against his chest.

"Hey, stay with me Spencer. Don't want you falling asleep on us now do we."

Spencer shook his head and allowed the paramedic to guide him into the ambulance, strapping him gently to the gurney. "Where's Alaska?" He asked. "She was with me. Where is she?"

"Who's Alaska, Spencer?"

"Alaska Knight. We skate together." He said this as though it were obvious. Perhaps it was. They had, after all, won the Juniors the day before. "Ice dance."

The paramedic nodded before beginning to clean the wound on Spencer's head. "When we get to the hospital there will be an officer, you can talk to him and we can get in contact with your family. Where are you from, Spencer?"

"London," he replied, eyes drooping shut.

"Hey, stay with me Spencer. Eyes open. I didn't notice you had an accent. You're an awful long ways from home."

"Ontario. Alaska's from London too."

"Are you guys on vacation here, Spencer?"

Spencer shook his head. "Figure skating. We train here. Better coaches. More intense. Juniors were yesterday."

The ambulance pulled into the hospital, and Spencer could feel the ground beneath him shifting as he was wheeled from the ambulance and into the hospital. The paramedic hung over him before there were a couple of nurses at his side.

"Approximate fifteen year old, likely a concussion. He's experiencing confusion," the paramedic said before Spencer was whisked into the hospital. He frowned at one of the nurses.

"May I speak with the officer now?"

"Once we get you settled," the nurse promised and Spencer glared at her.

"I will _not_ wait. In child kidnappings, the first three hours are vital! The last thing I remember is at three-eleven! It has been at least three hours and that means there's a seventy-five percent chance she's dead!"

The nurse scowled but tried to hide it. "Okay, you need to calm down. We will try to help you but we can't do that if you're tense."

They wheeled him further into hospital and Spencer glared at the nurse. "I need to speak with the officer. Please. She might be hurt."

"Okay," the nurse sighed and not five minutes later Spencer was talking with an officer, his words spilling out so quickly the officer had to ask him to slow down.

"So you're saying that someone knocked you out and took your friend."

Spencer nodded vigorously. "I think so. We were walking to the movies and then it goes blurry but I woke up in the alley with a headache so I think someone knocked me around the head."

"Blunt object," the nurse offered. "The hilt of a knife of the butt of a gun."

"Statistically, American women of all ages are less likely to scream if they see a gun."

The officer nodded. "Right. Well Mr. Reid, I'll put in an official report and see what we can do." He left the room, and Spencer turned to look at the nurse.

"May I please have a phone to call my guardians?"

She nodded and left only to return a few minutes later with a cellphone in hand. "This is my phone so do be careful with it." Spencer nodded and tapped in Marina's number.

"Hi Marina… It's Spencer… Yes, I am aware that we were supposed to be back about half an hour ago. No… Hey, Marina? Marina? I'm trying to talk here?" There was a silence at the other end and Spencer continued. "I'm at the hospital. Look, no I didn't do something stupid but Alaska's been kidnapped and the officer here won't do anything about it. Oh, yeah. _Of course they won't do something about it_. If they don't do something soon I'm calling the FBI because this is positively deplorable. Alright. I think my clothes are being processed now. I'm in room… 241. On the second floor. Yeah. See you soon." He released a long sigh and closed his eyes comfortably, headache reduced to a dull throb at the right of his skull.

The nurse pat his shoulder as he handed her phone back to her. "I'm going to let you get some rest now. Someone will come check on you once every two hours."

Spencer nodded, relaxing against the pillows.

Fifteen minutes later, the officer entered the room once again and gently shook Spencer awake. When his eyes opened slowly, the officer smiled down at him. "Alright, Spencer, I came to inform you of what's going on. We just finished processing your clothes and we've found this." He held out an evidence bag with a note in it. On the note were scrawled letters in a blue pen. The letters were thick and imprinted in the paper, long lines perfectly vertical. It read:

 _Young Mr. Spencer Reid,  
My name is inconsequential in this matter but by the time you have found this note I believe that it is likely that you will have discovered that I have kidnapped your ice dance partner, Alaska Knight. I have several demands that I require you meet if you would ever like to see Alaska again.  
I will be making a call to your phone, which has been left on your front door step, at exactly nine-twenty tomorrow (November 21, 2013) evening. I will expect to speak to you and only you, and should I hear anyone else's voice or even have an inkling that they are involved, you will listen to me kill Alaska. Over the phone I will discuss with you the price that you will pay to see Alaska again. If you fail me you will not see Alaska.  
Good luck!_

 _Signed by the one who holds your partner hostage_

There was an illegible scribble beneath the final line, more akin to Russian cursive than anything else.

Spencer frowned at the letter. "He doesn't say not to involve the police that's the first rule of ransom. Do not involve the police. Most kidnappers who make ransom demands are caught because they try to negotiate. The vertical nature of the writing implies that the writer was stressed while writing this, but there are no indications that it was written under duress. And Alaska didn't write it." His hazel eyes welled with tears. "This is all my fault."

"No," the officer rested a hand on his shoulder. "It is not your fault."

"I was with her! I should have… done something!"

"No," the officer said again and this time his voice was firmer, a strong hand on Spencer's shoulder. "There was nothing you could have done. Whoever this person is they were desperate and assumed that your friend was worth a lot. He decided to do this and there was nothing you could have done. We're going to place you and your… _guardians_ under an armed guard, and we will get Alaska back. Alright?"

Spencer continued to sniffle, but did not speak further.

The officer nudged him gently. "Hey, my boss is sending in a request to the FBI's Behavioural Analysis Unit. They have some of the best closure rates in the FBI. We are going to find your friend."

"Closure," Spencer repeated. "What you mean is that you'll be able to tell me how he hurt her and how he killed her. That I'll know if she's dead or alive."

* * *

Four members of the BAU arrived in Canton at eight the following morning. The team consisted of four people, as best as Spencer could tell.

Supervisory Special Agent Jennifer Jareau was about two inches taller than Spencer, with straight blonde hair that was the colour of honey, minus the gold part. With bright blue eyes and a lithe frame, she looked like the sort of person who had worn angel wings and a halo for a Halloween costume one year and absolutely hated it.

She looked young, thirty-five at the oldest, but also like she'd been on the job for years.

There was a certain look in her eye, something that Spencer couldn't identify but understood, that made him think she'd started at the FBI young and had been successful early. Something else, too, in which Spencer saw a maternal glint that made him think that perhaps Agent Jareau had a little kid waiting for her at home and hoping, desperately, that she didn't get hurt while working to help another person.

He liked her instantly.

"Spencer, do you remember any of the things that happened before you were knocked out?" Her voice was gentle and encouraging, digging for every little detail that might just help to find the guy that took Alaska.

Shakily, he let out a breath. "It's all fuzzy. We were just at a movie- the one based on Cassandra Clare's book. It was horrible and one of the girls there got mad at us because we talked a little bit. I had skittles- Alaska was complaining that she wanted a kinder egg but they're illegal here and that's super stupid because the only reason a child would choke on one is if they somehow opened the capsule inside themselves and I couldn't do that until I was twelve. Also, since the 70s when kinder eggs were first produced, there have only been seven children who died because of choking on the toy. We went down… Long street and then turned into the alley because it's quicker. We always do that after a movie. We talked about how much work training with Igor and Marina is."

"That's good," Agent Jareau grinned at him. "Can you think back to the juniors for me? Was there anyone that stood out in your mind? Someone who maybe paid a little too much attention to you and Alaska? Maybe they looked desperate or worried."

Spencer closed his eyes, trying to focus despite the pounding in his skull. "No… it was all normal. We went out on the ice and got through our program perfectly and then went to here our scores. There were some people watching us, but no one in particular." His headache grew worse, reaching into the depths of his skull and making him flinch.

Agent Jareau rubbed his shoulder gently. "Alright. You're sure that there was no one?"

"I have an eidetic memory. Positive. My head hurts."

"Okay, you get some rest, Spencer. Don't want your concussion getting any worse. I'll come talk to you the moment we know anything, but for now the best thing to do is to go along with the kidnapper's orders."

Spencer let out a shaky breath once more and looked at Agent Jareau. "What is he hurts her?"

The blonde woman sitting before him looked Spencer firmly in the eyes. "He has no reason to do that. This sort of UnSub – Unknown-"

"Subject, yeah."

"This sort of UnSub is looking for something from us that hinges on her being alright." Her phone beeped and Agent Jareau pulled it from her pocket to check. She glanced back at Spencer. "We've just picked up your phone and it's been catalogued as evidence. We've rerouted your number to one of our phones; it will enable us more control over our side. You're being released soon. I'm going to be driving you back home."

Spencer nodded. "Okay."

Agent Jareau pat his shoulder one last time and exited the room, leaving him alone with the nervous fear that he would never see his partner again.

* * *

For all that Spencer Reid (high school graduate at fourteen, certifiable genius, brilliant figure skater, best friend to Alaska Knight) may have been having a very bad day but there was no one in the entire world that was having a worse day than Alaska Knight (probably not true; somewhere was a little kid starving to death before they even lived; somewhere was a prisoner of war being tortured for information they didn't have; somewhere, it was always worse for someone, which really wasn't a comforting thought when one was locked in a basement with several bottles of water and those horrible packaged sandwiches).

If Alaska, perhaps, _lived_ in a house with such a basement it wouldn't be quite so scary. Because it was her home, obviously.

But seeing as Alaska lived in the home of two of the best ice dancers of recent history (who also trained some of the best ice dancers of yet more recent history), the basement was more like a shrine to the sport of ice dance. Tessa Virtue and Scott Moir, the talented Canadian ice dancers who were arguably Igor and Marina's most talented pupils of all time and most certainly among the best ice dancers of all time, took up a couple of shelves with images of them competing, in practice and wearing or holding their varying medals. There was even a picture of them giving a TedTalk about how they got to where they were. Alaska had once had the privilege of meeting the talented pair, who had stopped by for dinner with Igor and Marina once before.

Their closest rivals, Meryl Davis and Charlie White, were on the next shelf over- images of them in authentic Indian clothes performing in 2010 at the Vancouver Olympics, and old-fashioned for a stunning program skated to songs from _Phantom of the Opera._

Jayne Torvill and Christopher Dean, who were an English ice dance pair and arguably the best ice dancers in history, also had less space to themselves- they were from some thirty or forty years previously, and any picture that one might find of the pair would be rather blurry and would not make the shrine any more beautiful.

There were also images of every pupil Igor and Marina had ever taken in, with Alaska, Spencer, Libby and Paul in the most recent pictures. There were two pictures of each skater, one being a profile shot and the other being them in competition.

So, seeing as there were neither shelves nor pictures nor shrine, Alaska was not in the basement of Marina and Igor's home.

That was also abundantly obvious, seeing as Alaska could very clearly remember seeing her partner crumple to the ground unconscious after being hit 'round the head with a knife. She really was _not_ found of her kidnappers, a man and a woman, who whispered in hushed voices after tying her up in the backseat of their van. It was, as a matter of very annoying fact, a beige van with no windows. Just like every kidnapping vehicle ever.

For goodness' sake, couldn't these people even be original about kidnapping her?!

Yes, Alaska was freaking terrified.

However, Alaska also knew a couple of things: she wasn't already dead, which meant that her captors wanted her for something. It was that something that would keep Alaska alive.

She found comfort in that knowledge.

* * *

At nine-nineteen that evening, the house was almost perfectly silent. Spencer was dressed in soft, well-worn jeans and a thick sweater that reached onto the palm of his hands.

To his left at the table was Marina, and to her left Igor. Neither Libby nor Paul were sitting at the kitchen table, but to his right sat Agent Jareau, who gave him an encouraging smile whenever he looked over. There were three other members of the BAU present at that time, and they were the only ones able to come to the ice dance couple's aid. The Unit Chief, who was tall and imposing, almost like a statue, was Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner. He was stony-faced as he explained to Spencer what he was to do when the phone did ring.

"Humanize Alaska, keep her captors talking," Spencer repeated. "Got it." He nodded shakily and released a long-kept breath.

Across the table from him was Emily Prentiss, who was dark haired and had a computer resting before her in order to write down observations on the kidnappers. Next to her was David Rossi, who had a pen and sheet of paper to pass Spencer notes without Alaska's captors knowing of it.

He hadn't taken to the ice that day. Concussion and worry and most of all Igor had kept him from his favourite place and rather Spencer had confined himself to his guilt.

The clock ticked to nine-twenty and Marina tensed next to Spencer but he merely let out a long breath and waited several seconds more.

It was nine-twenty-two when the phone sitting before him rang. Spencer waited until the third ring to pick up.

"Is this Spencer Reid?" The voice on the other end was smooth and perfectly calm.

"I was expecting you to call a little earlier," Spencer replied, his tongue pressing against the roof of his mouth. "Is Alaska okay?"

"Your friend is fine, Spencer."

"May I speak to her? I've been really worried. She's my best friend and I was right there…" Spencer released a choked sob, only half faked and, across the table, David Rossi nodded at him encouragingly. "I couldn't live without her."

"Shh," the voice at the other end soothed and he nearly managed to sound compassionate and caring. "You may speak to your Alaska."

There was the sound of a phone being passed from one hand to another, before Alaska's clear voice came over the line. "Spencer?"

"Hey," Spencer whispered. "Hey Alley-cat."

Alaska snorted softly at the other end. "I am neither an alley nor a cat. But I am as though as the former and as graceful as the latter." There was something about the fifteen year old's voice that made Spencer question what she was saying. There was no discernable tremor in her voice, of course. They had to be prepared for interviews as they came up to the 2014 Sochi Olympics, and thus they both knew how to keep their voices smooth no matter what the situation. There was merely something… _off_ , something that Spencer would never have noticed if he weren't as close to Alaska as he was. Spencer couldn't quite place it; the feeling was almost as though he were inside Alaska's head, feeling what she was feeling.

Spencer himself looked as though he were about to burst into tears. "Are you okay?" His little sniffles were not to remain unnoticed by his partner, who sighed softly on the other end.

"My muscles are on fire, I haven't stopped pacing for this long since we went to the movie and I could really go with something other than ham and cheese." She burst into tears, the sniffles coming over the line distorted.

"It's okay, Alaska," Spencer murmured over the line as the phone at the other end changed hands once again. "We're going to get you home right away, okay?"

There was a distant voice at the other end. "I trust you, Pencer."

The kidnapper breathed softly into the phone. "Now that you have confirmed your friend's continued wellbeing, let's discuss."

"What do you want from us?" A tear leaked from beneath Spencer's closed eyelids. A shaky exhale left his body and he choked back a sob moments after. "We don't have any money."

" _Chut_ , Spencer. Your Alaska and you are important. You did what I could not- so do this; get my daughter and I will return Alaska. Not a minute before."

Spencer released another shaky breath. "How much are they asking for?"

"Clever _enfant_ ," the Quebecois on the other end cooed. "I chose you and Alaska for a reason, I knew I was right. In the public eye, international citizens and, most of all, intelligent. He asks for ten thousand, money that we cannot spare. Bring us our daughter and we return your partner."

There was a click signalling the end of the call.

At eleven-thirty-two PM on November twenty-first, Alaska was awoken by the harsh slamming-open of the door to the basement in which she was confined. She blinked up at the figures who entered the small room. Each wore a bullet proof vest reading _FBI_ in large, gold letters.

The first was a dark haired woman who looked to be vaguely goth. For a moment, the woman ignored Alaska in favour of clearing the room. She did so before kneeling in front of Alaska. "Hey," the woman murmured in a gentle tone. "You're safe now. Everything is going to be okay."

Behind her entered a man that had to be almost six feet tall. He, too, had dark hair, but had already holstered his gun so that it rested against his hip.

As it turned out, the Quebecois man that kidnapped Alaska wasn't very good at doing so. It was her status as a Canadian and Olympic hopeful that got the FBI involved, and from there it was a metaphorical piece of cake, something that Alaska was very glad for.

Spencer came to visit her in her temporary hospital room (they released her after a couple of hours and referred her to a therapist), and sat next to her and held Alaska's hand while they watched a rerun of one Supernatural episode or another.

The next day, they returned to training hand in hand.

Life went on, nothing to show that Spencer had been concussed or that Alaska had been kidnapped save for the newspapers, both local and international.

 _Olympic Hopeful Kidnapped!_ read the title of the New York Times the day after Alaska had been taken, and the article detailed Spencer's testimony and how the BAU were called in and it implored the public to keep an eye out for the blonde teen.

Two days later was: _Kidnapped Olympic Hopeful Found!_ and that one praised the BAU's work and featured a picture of Alaska and Spencer at the hospital holding hands and asked the question, ' _Are these to brilliant figure skaters together?'_ as though romance was more important than the part where _Alaska had been kidnapped_.

Ah, society. Culture. What a _lovely_ thing.

A couple of days after that, Fox News showed the world a video of them performing a program that they were considering for the Olympics. In it, Alaska dressed in a sapphire dress and Spencer in dark pants and a white shirt with, of course, a vest and tie.

They began the program separated, springing into motion moments after the music began in an upbeat tone. Together (yet separate) they circled the ice until the bumped into each other (purposefully, of course) and finally glanced at one another. From there the pair began the intricate motions across the ice, Alaska leading to one end while Spencer followed before she turned and they adopted the hold for the waltz, hands clasped in front of them while they held a light grasp on each other. They crossed the centre of the ice, and Alaska gave a little hop.

Their first synchronized sequence went perfectly, and there was a slight break before they went into the second. Their set of twizzles were _snap snap snap_ as they darted across the ice.

On the ice, they were not two separate beings and rather a single being free of the clumsy steps of every teenager in the entire world. They moved past centre ice again and to the other side of the arena, smiling at the cameras as they passed them.

It was a quirky dance, not typical in any way, but it was _them_ and that was enough to power their motions into a passionate dance.

Every motion was soft and subtle and smooth, everything that they could ever hope for in a short dance. A quick lift; smiles to an audience that wasn't even there; another lift, this one longer and more intricate as they speed across the ice. If Spencer were to drop Alaska, she'd crash to the ice and break something and their shot would be over.

Every tiny detail of the dance is quirky and fun, and they both grin for the cameras when they're done.

It was long, gentle motions that guided the pair away from the ice and back to the safety of the hard ground.

A week later a Russian paper's translated title was: _Up and Coming Canadian Ice Dancers_. The Canadian headline read: _Tessa Virtue and Scott Moir's Ice Dance Rule is Complete_ \- _Ontario Pair for Olympics_.

A week after that were interviews in a paper that read as such:

 _ **Alaska Knight and Spencer Reid, Up 'n Coming Ice Dancers**_

 _Ever since the Olympic team for the 2014 Sochi Winter Olympics was announced, the people have been waiting with anticipation to watch these brilliant Canadian athletes compete for the gold medal. For years now, Canada has been one of the top countries in the winter games. While Canada does not dominate the games as Germany did in 2006, Canada consistently brings home around a dozen gold medals. In the 2010 Vancouver Olympics, Tessa Virtue and Scott Moir competed in their final Olympics and brought home the gold medal in ice dance._

 _When Virtue and Moir stated in_ _this_ _interview that they would not be competing again, the people began to wonder who would take their place at the top of international ice dance. Kaitlyn Weaver and Andrew Poje have been theorized to take their place, but around two weeks ago this young ice dance pair, Alaska Knight, 15, and Spencer Reid, 15, came into the spotlight when they won the Canadian Junior Nationals. Furthermore, on the same day Knight was kidnapped in an attempt to rescue yet another kidnapped young girl._

 _In an exclusive interview with the pair, Spencer stated, "It's not so much that I chose ice dance it was more that ice dance chose me. When I was little, my mom started me on skating lessons and then figure skating lessons and then after that I tried ice dance. My entire life I've been part of this sport, and for as long as I've been ice dancing I've been partnered with Alaska. We read each other's minds." The transcript for this interview can be found_ _here_.

 _The coming Sochi games will be the first time there is a team figure skating event. While Canada still lacks a brilliant female skater, we are guaranteed a brilliant ice dance team._

The whole world was watching, waiting, in anticipation.

To Spencer Reid, it felt wonderful.

Alaska was slightly more hesitant- she'd begun avoiding unfamiliar places in the months following her kidnapping. She rarely spoke to Libby, and while Spencer totally agreed with her in that respect, they _did_ share a room. Not speaking simply didn't work. Libby had actually begun trying to start conversations with Alaska, though rarely did it work.

* * *

Logically, Spencer Reid had always known that Russia was a very long ways from Canton, Michigan. Some five thousand ninety-five miles, to be precise, but it didn't feel particularly long until one had been sitting in a car for half an hour, had spent five hours hanging around the airport, spent twenty minutes sitting on a plane, and had then spent seventeen hours and forty-five minutes flying to Sochi. Which made for a near twenty-four hour voyage by the time that an exhausted group of teenagers (and two responsible adults) reached the Olympic Village.

The Olympic Village was a very large space, separated into different sections based on the nationality of the different competitors. The section for Canada (kindly referred to as Canada House) was rather immense, seeing as Canada was consistent and strong in the Winter Olympics, and had the third largest number of Olympic competitors (close after Russia, in first, and the United States, in second). Everyone was paired with someone else of a similar age and the same gender. Which, unfortunately, meant that neither Alaska nor he would be paired with someone that they knew.

Their friends and competitors, Paul Castillo and Liberty Singleton, were both Americans who had at least a year on Spencer and Alaska.

Needless to say, Canada did not share quarters with their enemies.

Therefore, Spencer was paired with a British Columbian skier named Michael Brun, who was sixteen years old and had straight, chocolate brown hair trimmed across his forehead. The other boy was strong and proud, constantly wanting to talk about nothing but skiing. Once or twice, Spencer glared at the other boy for half an hour straight before announcing that he was going for a run. Each time he did this, Michael let out a long huff.

It was not so much that Spencer wanted to go for a run at that particular time, or that Michael was annoying him enough that he needed to get away, but more so that he and Alaska had arranged to go for runs at that particular time.

Alaska's roommate was eighteen, and also involved in figure skating and would be competing in the ladies' single event, and possibly the team event depending on how things went. Leah Foster was taller than the average figure skater, but had the light yet strong build that made speeding across the ice a matter of ease. Needless to say, they got along far better than Spencer and Michael did, as Leah was rather understanding about Alaska's _situation_ (and while it was hardly a matter often brought up, it was not a matter easily forgotten).

Leah sanctioned the ice time following Alaska and Spencer, and thus smiled each time they slipped from the ice like fish from a lake.

Which, not seeming to be a good comparison, really was. On the ice, Spencer's movements were long and graceful, everything carefully calibrated for _enough strength to do this but not so much to do more_. But off the ice, muscles soothed by the cold water of a shower, Spencer became something of an excitable puppy. All too-long limbs and large smile.

On February eighth, Alaska and Spencer took to the ice for the team event, performing a three and a half minute short dance that was playful and teasing and in every way perfect for them and receiving a score of 76.97, a new season's best for them. They beat out the Russian ice dancers, Ekaterina Bobrova and Dmitri Soloviev, by over six points and beating Liberty Singleton and Paul Castillo by about two points.

Previously, Russia and Canada had been tied for first with nineteen points each; Alaska and Spencer placed them in first by two points.

At the same time, the ladies' short happened and, once again, Canada and Russia were tied. When the pairs free happened, Russia took the lead by a single point.

It was an odd pattern to watch unfold- Russia took lead by a point, Canada took lead by a point, each country constantly playing catch-up to the other.

The final event was the ice dance free, for which Alaska and Spencer performed to _Petit Adagio_ and _Waltz in Concerto No. 2_. They scored in first, once again a new season's best, with Libby and Paul in second and the third place going to the Russians.

And thank goodness for that, as had the Russians had placed in second, the team event would be forced to go to a tie breaker.

While Spencer wasn't exactly sure what that tie breaker would have been, but he knew well enough that tie breakers _sucked_. _Especially_ in hockey.

Through the ceremony, Spencer stood next to Patrick Chan (the best Canadian men's figure skater) and smiled when he was handed his medal, whispering, " _Спасибо_ ," to the young woman. "Thank you."

She smiled back at him before crowning Alaska, on Spencer's other side, an Olympic gold medal champion.

On February 17, nine days later, Alaska and Spencer stood alone atop the podium, each holding another gold medal. For show, they bit lightly at the gold covering, careful not to leave an indentation.

Okay, so jet lag really sucked. Which was an immense understatement but truthful nonetheless. So travelling to the other side of the world was hard. So meeting so many new people was terrifying. So speaking in a second language (self-taught via duolingo, a couple of workbooks and the internet over the course of three panicked weeks) was a horribly difficult thing to do. So what? Standing on that podium within hours of skating across Olympic ice, nothing else seemed to matter. It was just Alaska and Spencer, the knowledge that they had done it, and a sea of onlookers from around the world.

* * *

 _Transcript for private interview with Alaska Knight and Spencer Reid, Olympic gold medalists_

 _Margaret McDonald: Hello! I'm Margaret McDonald, it's a pleasure to meet you both!  
Alaska Knight: It's such a pleasure to meet you too, Margaret. How are you?  
MM: I'm quite well and how are the both of you?  
Spencer Reid: _**laughs** _We've only just gotten back from Sochi so it's as you can imagine, I guess. We're tired -  
AK: At all the wrong hours.  
SR: - and couldn't be happier.  
MM:_ **laughs** _Well I guess that's what happens when you get back from Sochi. You two train in Canton, Michigan with Marina Zueva and Igor Shpilband, correct? How's that been working out for you? It's an awful long ways to be from your family when you're so young.  
AK: I guess it is quite a ways. We've never really thought of it that way, I guess, because we're constantly calling home and asking about everything. The _second _that anyone does anything we're getting texts from home.  
SR: Marina and Igor are both wonderful about everything. They know how hard it is to be training away from home when you're young, so they do their best to keep routines in place.  
MM: I'm sorry, I don't quite follow.  
AK: Repetition creates patterns in the brain that, when repeated, we find soothing.  
MM: Of course. Anyways, what can you tell me about your families?  
SR: We both grew up in the same town when we were little and actually met at one of our figure skating classes. The coach – Jones was his name – was teaching us about pairs and ice dance and we partnered up. As it turns out, we're rather good at it. We officially partnered up when we were seven and trained in Hamilton before we started training in Canton.  
AK: My parents are both doctors at the local hospital. I have a little brother and a little sister. Them and my parents were both in Sochi to cheer us on.  
MM: How lovely! What about your parents, Spencer?  
SR: My parents couldn't make it. Health problems.  
MM: I'm sorry, that must have been difficult.  
SR: I'm an only child of two people who have always been very busy, I'm accustomed to my parents being unable to make it.  
MM: At least you have Alaska's parents, right?  
SR: _**laughs** _Yes, I suppose I do. George and Eliza have always been wonderful to me. I, we, are lucky to have them.  
MM: Can you tell me anything about your gold medal performance? What it felt like to skate on Olympic ice?  
AK: Our first shot at gold was in the team event, and I think that was a really big deal for us. Before Yulia Lipnitskaya came along, Russia didn't have a brilliant female skater. She kind of made the entire of Canada go 'Uh oh' and worry that we didn't have anyone to compete against her.  
SR: What I think made the country even more nervous was that Tessa Virtue and Scott Moir decided not to compete in this Olympics. Tessa broke her femur a couple months back and hasn't been skating as well recently. Then back in August Alaska got kidnapped and suddenly we were right in the public eye. Winning the Nationals definitely helped with that, too.  
MM: All publicity is good publicity.  
AK: Not in the sports world. If it were _'Young Olympic Hopeful Kidnapped By Drug Dealer' _it would have been very bad for our careers. Any mention of drugs has everyone tensing up. They'd have probably made us both do a drug test, and even when it came up clean they'd still be tense.  
MM: That's quite a good point. You must do rather well in school.  
AK: I don't go to school. All my classes are online and, yes, I do rather well in them but Spencer's the smart one. He graduated last year.  
MM: I wasn't aware of that.  
SR: It's not what anyone expects. People like to believe that everyone has a single talent but that's not really true. Alaska's amazing at ice dance and English and was talking by the time she was one and a half, whereas I didn't speak a single word until I was four. I like to think of it as a volatile form of karma. I hardly see my parents, I'm great at ice dance. I graduate high school four years early, I spend nine years of school being the odd kid everyone shoves in the hallway. Life, in its own, cruel way, is rather fair. 'For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction.'  
MM: As much as I'd love to hear more from both of you, I'm afraid that our time is up. It was lovely to meet you both.  
AK: And you._


End file.
